


Beautiful Dreamer, Wake Unto Me

by BaredWolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dreams, First Kiss, M/M, POV Castiel, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaredWolf/pseuds/BaredWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is dreaming again. He's certain. He is certain it is a dream, because Dean is here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Dreamer, Wake Unto Me

**Author's Note:**

> “You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”   
> ― Dr. Seuss

Castiel is dreaming again. He’s sure. Ever since he touched the angel tablet, ever since he felt its directive burned into his consciousness, things have been a little different. Not like when he started to fall. But there are parts of him, aspects of his being, that are taking on more distinctly human characteristics. Specifically, he sleeps now. And dreams. And its not as if any of these new things are unfamiliar to Castiel. He has observed humanity for millennia, he understands how everything (literally, down to a subatomic level that current human scientists cannot yet discern) works, has theoretical knowledge of every single facet of humanity. And, since taking up residence this vessel (and especially since the vessel was rebuilt and he no longer shared it with Jimmy) he has gained practical knowledge of more than he ever expected. Ever wanted, in many cases, if he is honest. Being at full-angel power lets him avoid the more unpleasant, the more obnoxious things. But living in a human body even without human limitations, Castiel gained a new appreciation, a new love, for humanity. And dreaming: he had walked in the dreams of humans before, but to have his own was astounding. It never ceased to amaze him what his mind would conjure when he let it rest. Truly, dreaming made the concept of sleep as rest for the mind seem paradoxical. 

He is certain it is a dream, because Dean is here. And he left Dean, last, in Lucifer’s crypt. Whole in body, but suffering in mind and heart. But the directive: Castiel could not ignore it. He had broken Naomi’s control when confronted with killing the human he had come to love (to love above all others, if he allowed himself the painful truth). But this new directive: the tablet must be kept from Dean. For Dean’s own sake: although Dean would undertake danger willingly, this would prove more than even the legendary Righteous Man could handle. So he must stay away from Dean.

Dean is here, his gaze locked with Castiel’s. He remembers when he rebuilt Dean from the ashes of the pit. Remembers crafting those irises, the delicate interplay of color that caught the light just-so, remembers the startling power of the gaze that regarded him with fear, hope, trust, pain, concern, and myriad other emotions, teaching Castiel to feel as well. Remembers the bank of the stream in Purgatory, the green muted in the washed-out light yet shining with an emotion he tried to tell himself he had only imagined. The emotion shining from dream-Dean’s eyes now: love. Pure (though never simple); trusting (against all sense) and open (to hope and to hurt). And now, with a heat beginning to blaze behind it, a heat that said “I need you.” In every possible way. 

Dean’s gaze is locked on Castiel’s, and Castiel’s eyes fall to his lips. And the beautiful thing about dreaming, Castiel has learned, is the ability to act out any scenario, any desire or terror at all, with no consequences. Here, it does not matter if he is worthy of love: he simply is loved, and he can accept it without draining, tainting, damaging the giver. He can let Dean love him. 

Castiel’s eyes fall to Dean’s lips, and he closes the distance to kiss Dean. And it is nothing like the pizza man, it is nothing that theory ever taught him, nothing he could have ever understood until he experienced it. It is consuming fire and it is burning him alive. Let it. Let it burn, let the world burn: only let him keep this. Let him have _this_. 

Castiel kisses Dean, and Dean kisses him back. And Castiel is lost, has fallen in every possible way. Because he needs Dean, loves Dean, with a fierceness that is mirrored in the way Dean’s lips move on his, the way Dean’s hand grips his hip tightly enough to bruise (10% more pressure than necessary, actually) while his other hand gently cups his jaw. And Castiel burns, he needs. 

Dean kisses him back, and realization floods Castiel. He is not dreaming. He could not dream this: the detail, the smell, the _taste_ , the overwhelming-consuming-terrifying-joyful dizzying feeling that he has never experienced before. (A faint memory of hearing Dean praying though Castiel was sleeping, a reflexive response to _Dean_.) He is not sleeping; he is not dreaming. 

Realization floods Castiel, and he pulls back. This cannot be happening (he cannot be with Dean), how can this be happening (he does not deserve even the tiniest part of this), Dean is letting this happen (could Dean ever let this happen?), Dean is kissing him back (Dean feels the way that he does?). 

Castiel pulls back, and Dean murrmurrs “ _Cas_.” In that word, everything he had already said with his lips against Castiel’s lips, with his eyes and his hands and his tongue, everything is confirmed. 

Dean murrmurrs “ _Cas_.” And he’s sure. This is real. 

Castiel is certain, so he kisses Dean again.


End file.
